Wind gogyohka



wind pours

a cascade

from the ocean sky

sweeping leaves birds and branches

in its flood.

High wind haibun


Watching the wind waving its arms in the poplars, shivering the long grass.

Listening to the roaring, like fighter planes, bounce around the solid grey sky.

Poplars rant and rage, hair flying, and I watch, through their open fingers, raised to fend off the gusts, birds’ nests high in the spindle branches bob and sway in the waves.

Window shutters may slam, tiles fly from the roof and things thud down inside the chimneys, but I have never seen a bird’s nest fly from its moorings.

Dry twigs and grasses

woven with bird beak

safer than houses


This is the third day of gales, hail and thunder. Spring is definitely on the way.


Tempest rocks the air and shreds the night,

While cold hail harrows the clinging darkness white,

And beneath our flimsy roofs of flying tiles,

No one sleeps.


Whining wind is full of sea-tossed ghosts,

We hear the breakers crash upon the shore

And listen for the seabirds’ scream

Until the dawn.


And when the earth rolls into ragged morning light,

Rain-rattled, shutters banging thunderclaps against the wall,

An embattled voice fights, sweet against the bitter wind,

The first brave notes.


Short phrases running rapid and unsure,

Picked out and tested over and again,

As grey light turns dull river-silver pale,

Blackbird is singing; spring shines through the rain.

Triolet: Gale blows harder

In response to Christine Haggerty’s prompt, a Poetry Poker Deal of five words:

above, snap, strain, slam, creep


Gale blows harder, snap and strain,

Trees bend creaking a wild din make,

Clouds creep lower, falling rain.

Gale blows harder, snap and strain,

Slamming doors, so sharp the pain,

Above the tumult, I hear the break.

Gale blows harder, snap and strain,

Trees bend creaking, a wild din make.